Stormy Weather
by Cyanide Disaster
Summary: With their seemingly indestructible Warden fearing for her life, her companions begin to see a new side, a clear side that no matter what she was now, she was only a human. Short few chapters of fluff. 3
1. The First Wind

A/N: This is my first fan fiction. I plan on growing this into my full fledged adventure (in my mind) of is NOT a one-shot! It will be continued!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Bioware characters, places or names (except for the name Lynnira).

---

The rain and wind rocked the circle tower beyond the belief of the warden crumpled far in the corner. Fight off hordes of darkspawn? No problem. Kill more than enough abominations to last a life time? Cake. Be shaken about in a storm? Not her cup of tea.

She could feel the eyes on her as her green face was tucked between her knees. Her arms around her tightly, muttering prayers and swears alike. The grey warden felt pitiful. Another gust of wind pressed against the tower unappealingly. Her face blanched as she pictured the tower crumbling into the dark, foreboding waters of Lake Calenhad. "Makers Mercy, make it _end._" She whispered to no one in particular.

A little chuckle left the tightly pressed lips of her fellow Warden, back against the wall nearest her. Her ghost-blue eyes rose to give him a steady glare.

It had been maybe two months since she'd agreed to forsaken her home to join the wardens. Two long months since she'd seen Highever. The other Warden barely knew her, and this was his only advantage against her. Thankfully her other companions were much less cruel for her falling out. Leliana sat beside her, a hand rolling in soft circles on her hunched back, probably just being kind enough to hide her laughter. Sten stood stoic and terrifying as ever. No words left him, but she was hardly surprised. Morrigan was not with them, after plainly refusing to come to the circle where 'weak mages allow themselves to be herded like sheep', her words, of course. Her faithful war hound curled on her other side, nuzzling his nose into her calf.

"Oh shut up, Alistair!" She hissed in his general direction, before her stomach clamped and she hid her eyes once more.

"But this is so silly! Scared of a little thunder and lightening? Our big bad leader doesn't like big noises?" An urge rose from her to walk over and smash that irritating smirk from his face, but the thought of moving while the tower rocked back and forth… ugh, the thought made her queasy.

"Well, at least it's an excuse to sleep indoors instead of the cold, hard ground, yes?" Leliana interjected. Her soft eyes fluttered up towards the Knight-Commander standing nearly as stoic as Sten before the statue of Andraste then to First Enchanter Irving, sharing hushed words with their newest travelling companion Wynne. All eyes missed Cullen, staring with unease towards the group. His words of them being demons in disguises already shot down at least three times.

"I'm only human," the Warden whined as Alistair continued to laugh at her ridiculous behaviour. "I'm sure you're scared of silly things too." Her lips curled into a pout.

Alistair didn't have a reply for that one. Or maybe he did? But didn't want to give her fodder? She didn't think Alistair was smart enough for that one. "We couldn't have travelled across the river tonight." He shrugged.

The conversation dimmed to a dull hum in her mind. The rushing winds against the stone walls became a lullaby, the circles of the former lay-sister against her back just as comforting. Before they knew it, the Warden was asleep.

Of course, like each night, she dreamed of horrid things. The darkspawn voices scratching her mind, a hum threatening to drag her down into the earth. This night was no different. At first everything was normal, her band of followers and herself treading lightly through a deserted village. And out of nowhere darkspawn appear, tearing, biting and clawing at her body. Her own blood getting into her eyes, getting on the ground. Her companions turn on her, eyes red and blood-shot, sharp teeth glinting maliciously for her blood as they attack her as well. This would be where she'd give up, break down and surrender to her dream.

Not this night.

Screaming she swatted at them, suddenly naked and unarmed. Hands grasping at her body, nails digging into her skin, teeth biting her and tearing her flesh from her bone and she kicked, punched and screamed.

"Lynnira!"

She almost swears it's the Alistair-darkspawn yelling her name. _But it can't be him? It's his voice, but he's attacking me!_

"Lynnira!"

"Stop! Please!" Her own voice startled herself into awareness. Her silver-blue eyes gazing straight up into the vaulted ceiling of the tower. Strands of strawberry blond hair hung over her eyes. _Why am I on my back? _She wondered first off. Soon a face—his face—came into view. Alistair's golden flecked eyes shrouded in worry. "Am I… in the middle of the room?"

His face cracked into a grin, a bit thin lipped and his eyes still shrouded. He was so easy to read. "You started muttering and then you threw yourself into the middle of the room... and started scratching at yourself," he hesitated. "You alright?"

Lynnira Cousland sat up quickly; Leliana was sitting, wide-eyed and staring. Sten had tilted his head to watch the sceptical. The warden cleared her throat, tilting her head up slightly, a rush of heat touching her throat and moving up to claim her cheeks. "Uh… yes. I'm fine. Merely dreaming."

His eyes didn't leave her frame for what felt like hours after that.

But light was entering the tower through the cracks in the door—morning was there. It was time for them to leave.

"Finally. We must continue." It was a shock to her that Sten had actually spoken.

"Yes. The storm seems to have passed." Leliana smiled reassuringly towards Lynnira.

Though she remained silent.

Quickly the group gathered their weapons and gave thanks to Gregior and Irving for allowing them refuge in the tower over the night.

Soon they were gone.

And by the Maker was she glad. After the gruelling hour on the cramped, rocking boat, the Warden was more than happy to touch solid ground once more. Looking back towards her little group she announced: "Let's never do that again." At least she made them laugh.

She'd always been told that to do well in life, you have to know when to laugh at yourself.

They were quiet along the road, until meeting with Morrigan, who outwardly showed her distaste of Wynne, or 'the sheep' as she liked to refer to her as. Lynnira was rather impressed that the two didn't begin to throw balls of fire at each other—though it would be an exciting change. She almost wanted to wager the fight with Alistair, but knew he'd only give her a lecture about apostates… _Sigh, he needs to lighten up a bit. Damn. _

Silence then washed over them as they marched on. She closed her eyes as a soft wind rocked against her heavy armour. She felt it brush though her clothing under the silverite breastplate. It shone brightly in the midday sun, her boots making a rhythmic noise as they clanked against the soft ground. Still wet due to the storm. For hours they marched in silence, stopping once to eat a bit.

While they were stopped, she removed her gauntlets and placed them beside her. Her helm laying in the grass next to them. Her eyes ventured up into the sky, the blue sky was quickly being shrouded in darkness. A frown touched her face. _Another storm… _

"Lynnira."

His voice jolted her into awareness. She swivelled her head to look at him. Getting a very good view of his knee from her place on the ground. "Yes, Alistair?" Had she ever noticed how the sun made his hair so very golden? He looked so… what was the word she wanted for that? Oh yes, _overpowering. _

"Are you feeling better?"

"I never felt wrong." She replied, put back. He must have noticed it by the look on her face, because he lowered himself into the grass next to her.

"Ow. Damn! How do you sit like this with all your armor on? It digs in the most irritating areas…" He was evading the point. She could tell.

A soft sigh left her lips. Pale, porcelain, like the rest of her skin. "Why do you bring up conversations and then get off topic?"

"Because I know it irritates you," he took one look at her expression and gulped, changing that course of action. "Well, let's see. Everything I come to talk to you about something, it's never good," Her brow rose as she waited. "Look, I was worried, alright?"

"I got that much. What about though—oh… the dream. Don't worry about it Alistair—"

He cut her off, it irritated her slightly. "But I've heard you mutter like that almost every night."

Lynnira's brow must've twitched or something, because he almost looked scared. "You… you _listen _to me when I sleep?"

Alistair was about to try to cover for himself, but he was cut off by Morrigan. By an _angry_ Morrigan. "Will we dawdle here all day? Or can we move before the ground swallows us whole?"

The warden was more than ready to leave. Even though to must it must've been endearing to hear he listened to her sleep, she didn't trust him. How could she? She had trusted Rendon Howe once too. Look how that turned out.

With a mutter and a grumble about noisy people she rose herself to her feet. "Let's move."

They all followed without question.

They travelled as they usually did—silently. She found it awkward, not even Alistair was retorting back to Morrigan's obvious baits to get him mad. Leliana and Wynne's conversation seemed forced, to fill the silence. But forward they marched, Lynnira Cousland at their front.

"Can we _please_ stop soon?"

Lynnira didn't even need to look back to know who was speaking. Spinning on her heel she gave him a steady look. "We rested not very long ago."

The entire party gave her a strange look. "My dear girl," started Wynne. "We've been walking for hours; the sun is nearly down…"

The Warden leading them looked to the sky her mouth forming a perfect 'o'. "We should… uh… set up camp then…"

---

He didn't know what he did wrong! They were always joking around. What had he done to irk her so badly? Alistair's mind was rolling with the possibilities while he stuck the last post of his tent into the ground. The canvas shuttered in the wind.

He threw a glance in her direction. Her tent was up, but she sat outside it, poking the small camp fire that Morrigan had started with a thin stick.

"Your turn to watch tonight?" Alistair's voice seemed to startle her, he noted by how she jumped and looked up at him. She looked like a frightened animal.

"Yeah… don't worry. You're mostly safe." She gave him a small chuckle, but it seemed so forced so _fake. _

The sun was low on the trees. The sky was painted orange, pink and red. His eyes were drawn to _her_ though. It was so odd for him, the little Chantry boy inside him was confused, but the hormonal man inside of him understood, but that part was so much smaller. She was still staring up at him from her crouched position from across the fire. The flames making her pale skin shine, her blue eyes glimmer and her armour sparkle. He looked upon her, taking her in. What was it about _her_ that was so captivating? He wondered.

Alistair's eyes were still upon her as she stood to accept something from Leliana's arms. She was so much shorter than their Orlesian bard, nearly a head so. A complete head shorter than himself. He remembered their first meeting…

_The mage across him scoffed, "Fine, get out of my way _fool_." Turned and headed towards the exit. He, himself turned to the newcomer, who stared after the mage with confused eyes. _

"_Isn't it wonderful how the Blight brings people together?" He looked down at the girl—woman? Before him. What was she doing in armour? Why was she armed? She looked too fragile to be a solider…_

"_What an ass!" Alistair stepped back in surprise. "I don't even know him and he already thinks I'm a fool. I didn't even get to surprise him." This made his brow shoot up._

"_Surprise?" He choked out, surprised at her demeanour. _

"_Yeah. I mean, who just calls an innocent bystander a fool. I'm not even drunk and dancing… yet, I mean." _

"_I am… very lost." _

"_Well, I have that effect on people. Lynnira Cous—just Lynnira. You must be Alistair, yes?" The way her cheeks rose as she smiled caught his attention. As did her bright white teeth and full thick lips. _

"_Wait—_you _are the new recruit?!"_

_A pout touched her lips, and it suited her. "Is that a problem? I bet I could kick your ass any day."_

_His jaw must've dropped, because she chimed a laugh. "I must be scarring you. I apologize. But yes, I am. Duncan brought me here."_

"_Yes. I am Alistair. I'm very pleased to meet you, M'Lady."_

_She puffed out a harsh breath, "I thought leaving Highever would stop people from using that title. Please, just Lynnira. Or even Lynn if you wish." Something sad touched her eyes, but she hid it well._

_He nodded dumbly. He did that a lot._

"Why are you staring at me Alistair? It's starting to creep me out a little." He was jarred back to reality by her voice—oh Maker her voice. He had once heard her sing something to Leliana, he thought he was going to die. _Maker, why taint her? She has so much to live for… _"Alistair!" She was suddenly right before him, and his eyes looked down to hers.

"Yes?"

"You never answered me. Are you sick?" A thin, carved brow rose at him as she questioned him.

Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm fine. Zoned out is all…"

Lynnira grinned and he blinked, was what he said funny? "I was joking, by the way. I'm not going to let anything happen to any of you." But her words seemed a bit more pointed.

He went to retort back, possibly something cheeky, maybe even funny. But a droplet of rain hit his nose. "It's raining." He noted, pointlessly.

The frown on her face said it all, _another storm_. "Thank you, General Obvious." Her voice was sarcastic as she seated herself once more by the fire, pulling the hood of her thick cloak over her head.

"At least I get a fancy title," he pointed out. Settling down by the fire, casual conversation flowed between Leliana and Lynnira. And as the stew was passed out, everything went silent. He had no idea how hungry he was until he ate.

But even then he was hungry.

And Maxwell was not happy by that. Maxwell being Lynnira's faithful hound, of course. His nose was deep in Alistair's bowl, licking up any remains. Growling something along the lines of _'Jerk, you always leave me something.' _"Sorry. I was hungry." He replied, a little bit whiny.

Lynnira was aware of the exchange, "No wonder he likes you so much. Food. Here Boy, you can have mine. If I eat too much I won't stay awake for my entire shift." Greedily he hounded her food, Alistair felt a wave of guilt come over him.

He wanted to coddle her, treat her like a doll, tell her to eat up, to stay healthy—as much as she could, with tainted blood in her veins. But _why_ he thought these things confused him. _She's merely our leader, funny, rather attractive, but I've seen many attractive women in my day, yes? Right? Am I asking myself questions in my mind. I am losing it…_

That sweet as honey voice interrupted it all, "You guys should sleep. Mostly you Sten, you carry second shift, right?" The giant just nodded and Alistair noticed a shiver run down Lynnira's back.

So, being just as faithful to her as her hound was, they all headed to their respective area's. Alistair to his tent, where he stripped down into his small clothes. But the night was cold, and the rain penetrated the thin canvas more than he wished it could. So, he pulled on trousers, before tucking himself into his blankets. Sinking into dreams…

Only dreams wouldn't come.

Something was wrong, very wrong. All he could think off was _her._ Smiling, laughing, threatening to fight him all of it. For hours he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, watching the droplets of rain slide down the canvas.

When suddenly lightening flashes like white steel through the sky, and a broken swear is heard from outside his tent. Alistair was tired, yes, he was disoriented as well, but he got up and peered out.

Though the fire was out, he could see her, curled up over her knees shivering, muttering and trembling.

He went to speak her name, but thunder trembled the ground as lightening streaked the sky. As the sky lit up, he could see her face and it nearly broke his heart. Her eyes were screwed shut, her lips pressed together tightly as she muttered swear after prayer after swear. Tears streaking down her face.

"Lynn…" His voice wasn't loud enough for her to hear, but at the rustling of the canvas, she turned to him, eyes widening. They were rimmed red as she sniffled once.

"Alistair…" His name barely left her lips when the lightening streaked across the sky. Sending her body into another fit of trembles.

Without one more thought, he was at her side. He drew her near and she clutched at him, the fingers that had been clinging to her cloak touched his chest. The rain spluttered over his skin but he didn't care. His strong features were turned down by her trembling.

He'd never seen her quite so… so… fragile. As his arms surrounded her he let her hide against his bare chest. "Shh, it's okay." He whispered softly, not even knowing if she'd hear over the gusting wind or the walls of rain falling down upon them.

The storm didn't pass, but Sten did come. She had heard him first and pushed Alistair away, shaking as the storm raked her body.

"You can sleep now."

And that was it. She didn't even look up Alistair before fleeing to her tent. He sat there for a long moment, until he realized how very _cold_ he was.

He nestled back into his blankets soon after returning to his tent, yet once more, dreams would not come. He felt like an idiot. He should have said something, made her talk, weren't women susceptible to talking when they were upset? But then again, she was like no woman he'd ever met.

Once sleep finally did claim him, he was dreamless.

Morning came too soon for the tired man, weary circles hung under his eyes, but he could hear the bustling of the rest of them putting up camp. Why hadn't they woken him? He climbed from his tent precariously, the morning sun barely over the horizon.

"You finally join us," came Morrigan's tight and irritated good-morning.

"Sadly," He retorted back, rubbing a thick hand through his short golden hair, before letting it caress his thin layer of stubble. As he stretched and packed up, he took notice that Lynnira was staring at him when she could. It wasn't a glare, nor a lurid stare… she seemed more confused than anything.

Though, the moment they were cleaned up, she commanded them to continue.

They marched, and marched, and marched, then they ate lunch, then marched some more. Alistair swore he could see Redcliffe Castle in the distance, not even a day's journey. Finally, they stopped for the evening.

As the rest of the day had been, they set up their camp very quietly.

He overheard their leader speaking with Leliana, "It's so strange…" she had said. "Not one darkspawn in the area."

The bard ravished the young woman with laughter, grasping her by her shoulders and bringing her into her chest—why did anger bubble in his chest so? "Perhaps the Maker wishes us to have one day of peace, yes?"

"Well, he could have had better timing."

The laughter resumed. Night came and it was his turn for watch. The food had been eaten, the bowls and pots scoured and tucked away until the morning.

It was a warmer night than the last; no rain touched his armored body. For what felt like hours he sat out there, unmoving, only listening. Until the rustle of canvas on skin roused him, he tilted his head. It was Lynnira's tent, he waited, and he watched, until the woman fell from her tent, almost ungracefully. Although Alistair wasn't sure she could _be_ ungraceful.

She looked up at him, and he was awestruck. He noted that he'd never seen her without her armor before. Lynnira was a very thin woman, one whom shouldn't be adorned in armor at least! A thin layer of freckles littered her skin, easier to see without the chunky armor on her body. A blush touched his face when he noticed just _how _womanly she was. All curves.

"I was hoping you hadn't fallen asleep yet," She said, with a little joking smile on her lips. Oh those lips. Alistair felt urges to pull her to him, and that blush increased on his face.

"No worries, Lynnira…" Only then had he noticed how he enjoyed how her name rolled from his tongue, "I try my best not to get everyone killed."

A giggle, soft and girly left her as she climbed out beside him. Settling into the grass, eyes intent on the small fire. "I should hope not, you're the only one here other than myself who knows how to use a shield, it's kind of _our _job not to let them die…"

"Them?" _I mostly worry about you._

"What?"

"Wait… what?" His eyes opened a bit wide.

"Worry about me?" _Oh Maker!_

"Er. Yes. I mean… you are the only other Grey Warden… what would I do without you?" Alistair had to look away, the blush claiming his face wholeheartedly.

"I think you're lying," she chided him in a sing-song voice. "But that's okay… I… I…" Her eyes were on him, he could feel it. She was watching him, waiting for him to look at her. He didn't want to disappoint. His head tilted so their eyes would meet.

"I wanted to—I needed to thank you." She paused. Alistair noted just how her hair shone in the fire's light. "So thank you, Alistair."

His name had never been so wonderful to hear.

"Uh, well, um… I just… uh…" He continued to bumble about his words, but he stopped. He stopped everything. Because he felt something on his cheek. Something _warm_. Something of _hers_.

Her lips lingered over his cheek for a long second. "Thank you, Ser Knight." Lynnira's voice was soft, shy almost. Mocking him softly, though he didn't mind. "I don't think I'd have made it through the night without you."

"I don't think I'll make it through this without you."

Her warm smile lit up the night air before she said her goodnights and crawled back into her warm bed.

Alistair's mind was racing. His heart beating nearly through his chest. _Tomorrow we see Eamon, tomorrow we continue this quest… tomorrow I'll see her again. _


	2. Rain Begins

A/N: I realize I jump from time to time, but certain things are a bit obvious... those are a few of the things that I'm not changing from the original game.

A/N: And I also notice I jump from person to person. I think it adds flare.

---

Her name was being called, from so very far away, it felt. She groaned and rolled to her side, muttering to herself as strands of her hair moved over to tickle her nose. "No…" her voice was weak with sleep, "just a few more minutes Fergus, I promise I'll spar then… I need sleep…"

The laughter being poorly hidden roused her. Her tent was gone, and Lynnira was tangled in her blankets, on her thin bedroll. The face above her was out of focus, but the she could tell whom it was by the bright red locks hanging by the grinning face. "Time to get up, sleepy-head."

She merely groaned. It took Lynnira a few minutes to claw her way out of the blankets and noticed she was being watched, intently by both Morrigan and Alistair. She almost blushed, but felt as if that'd be too much effort, so early in the morning.

"We had made you something to eat, but you slept into long… and we fed it to your mutt," Morrigan's voice was tense—per usual.

"He's no mutt. He's a pure bred Mabari," her protest was weak, though. As if she was repeating something she'd been saying for months. The soft whine from her side made her scoff. "Oh calm down Maxwell," a soft sigh left her as she watched the others put up the rest of camp. "I don't think you are a mutt, you're a beautiful, dirty little dog, and some day you'll have an equally beautiful, dirty dog to have many puppies with, yes?"

His barks made her assume he was fine with that.

It took only few minutes to get back into her armor, strapping her sword to her back, clasping her un-marked shield over it.

And so the journey continued.

Lynnira felt awkward, felt his eyes digging into her back, peering into her soul. The group seemed to have fallen into a particular order over the past few weeks. She would be at the front, with either Alistair or Leliana with Sten silently behind her and Morrigan even further back. Wynne though, chose to stand near Sten, attempting to probe him for information she'd never receive... her loss. This particular day, Leliana was keeping her company with little riddles that actually made her think.

"How does a Lay Sister know such riddles, I have a suspicion these are not quite as innocent as I'd like to believe?" Lynnira had to force her smile back at Leliana's feint expression of innocence.

"Not innocent? But I assure you, my dear lady, everything I speak of has some sort of innocence to it."

"Hmm. Is that so? But if something is innocent it is also corrupted, as all evil is good, in some way. No?"

A childish pout touched Leliana's face, "I thought I was telling the riddles."

Lynnira's laugh echoed softly over the hillside. It happened to be the exact moment they left the woods, which had been thinning in her view.

The accented voice beside her smiled, "Redcliffe, I've never been here, but I've heard stories."

It was something Lynnira would have put into stories. It was something she felt she could paint, had she the talents. She stood on the top of the hillside, there was a long stone bridge leading towards the castle, which was vast and … empty looking. Below the castle in the small valley before the lake it sat upon was the village. It seemed so quaint, but the look of it made a stabbing pain in her chest. Why did Highever have to look so familiar to this?

Without speech, the group began their descent into the village. Lynnira's eyes darted from home to home. Something was off. Before she could make mention she felt a hand on her shoulder, catching her both off guard and mid step, nearly causing her to fall down the hill.

She didn't even need to turn to know whose hand was on her shoulder.

---

He had grasped her a bit more forcefully then he had hoped, and by the way she jumped, he could assume she believed the same. Alistair watched her tilt her helmeted head towards him, only barely able to see her eyes under the heavy armor.

Perhaps she could read minds? But she removed her helmet and waved the group to continue for the moment. "Yes?"

He felt like he would melt, as if he were sugar and her voice liquid. "Uh… there is… something I need to talk to you about…"

"Oh, this can't be good. Haven't we already had this discussion? I'm fine, it was merely a dream—"

"No, it has nothing to do with your dream. Actually… it has nothing to really do with you…" He watched as her brow rose in interest, and continued daringly. He was never very good at telling people things without using humor to deflect it. "Well, remember when I said that I was raised by--"

It was her turn to cut him off, "by flying, Andraste revering hounds that hated cheese? Let me guess, it was a lie?" She smiled at him, "I may have played along Alistair, and even made an inappropriate comment, but did you think I believed you?"

He laughed, though his voice was tight, nervous. "Of course not! I was glad you played along though… but now I'm getting distracted. Look, remember how I told Flemeth that Arl Eamon raised me? Yes, well that's because I'm Maric's bastard son. My mother was a serving girl at the castle, and he… well. I'm sure you know how that goes."

Her face, as beautiful as it was, was priceless, not that he was laughing though. Her jaw dropped, nearly to the ground, her eyes wide as she watched him. He half expected her to straighten up and bow to him. He was eternally grateful she just stared at him.

"You… you are kidding right?" Her voice was tight, but then she smiled at him. "I don't know why you didn't tell me before…" Was she sad? No, no, no. He couldn't have that.

"I'm not kidding, sadly. I never told you because… because I wanted to be liked for who I am, not for being the bastard of the late king."

The feeling of her hand on his arm (even through his armor) sent chills up his spine. "Alistair, I don't think I could like you any other way than who you were." She gave him a smile, and he nearly sight out in relief, "My Prince."

He stared after her as she walked off towards their impatient party, waiting near the bottom of the hill. Her soft laughter flooding his ears. "I will regret this, wont I?"

The yip by his knee sounded more like a _'oh yes, you will indubitably.' _

_---  
_

"Ugh. What does he believe important enough to stall us in our quest. I wish to have this over and done with as soon as possible." Morrigan was growing irritable. Leliana kept her face straight though, plastered with that faux happiness.

"I do believe we all wish this to end soon. This destruction is indeed terrible—"

"I care not for your pathetic little worries.," came the cutting off, annoyed response.

Leliana took the high road, sighed and rolled her eyes as she turned away, looking back up at the two on the hill. _He's very cute, yes? Too bad he is very bad at hiding his emotions; he almost makes it too easy for her to tease him._ Mentally, she chided him.

Soon enough though, Lynnira was returning to them and Morrigan made a few crude comments about Alistair's intelligence, causing all of them to both wince and hide a chuckle.

Leliana is an observant woman, more so than she cared to admit. And she could see on Alistair's face, something unmistakable, something that made her belly boil with excitement. _Perhaps defeating the Blight is only half of what the Maker wishes of me._ A soft giggle left her lips, scheme's rolling through her devious mind, as she watched him run towards them, nearly tripping over Maxwell during his haste to be with them once more.

Lynnira's voice finally overshadowed Morrigan, who had began picking a fight with the slightly blushing Alistair: "We ought to get into the Village before the Blight creeps up behind us."

Her face twisted a bit, there was something strange about Lynnira she could not place. She had watched the woman when no one else was. She saw the pain on her face at times, how she stopped completely some times and began to look about franticly and also how she'd spend hours curled up next to her hound, whispering things none of them knew about.

A small smile touched Leliana's lips, _she has only known me for a few weeks, it will take much more time for her to open up to me… but she will._

Of this she was certain.

Leliana felt an odd breeze on her back, something was off, it was too quiet, too still. When suddenly a voice called to them as they stepped closer. "Who goes there?"

Then, there was a young man, coming over the hill, bow in hand, brows furrowed, looking both scared and curious.

"Ho there friend," it was Lynnira who spoke first, "I am the Grey Warden Lynnira, we were hoping to gain access to the castle, may I ask why it's blocked off?" She was gesturing in the way of the large wooden gates put up.

"So… so you don't know?" They all just watched him without speaking. "No one has been to the castle in… in days! They could be all dead by now! The Arl was sick before this—"

Alistair looked as if he saw a ghost, "He's sick? How sick? Will he get better?"

The messenger was startled by the questions, and how Alistair had stepped closer. But Leliana watched as Lynnira sent out a hand in both directions. One to calm Alistair, the other the messenger, "Please, take us to whomever is in charge."

---

And so it was. Night was falling upon the cursed village, and her mind was racing. They all stood atop the ledge, overlooking the lake and the castle. The windmill rustling her under her armor. Her thoughts escaped to their current encounter with Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon's brother. He was ecstatic to know they'd help. He was an older man, perhaps in his forties, his hair a dulling shade of brown, his skin haggard from the lack of sleep and from fighting. She even thought him to be a gentlemen, even charming, after a few moments of flirting—started by him, of course—and she couldn't help but smile secretly for Alistair's jealousy.

Lynnira shuddered then, muttering to herself. "What sort of evil can this be? Nothing we've never seen. It can't be worse than darkspawn, can it?" She continued to pace back and forth, mumbling. At one point she even removed her helmet and used the back of her gauntlet to push her hair back. Her hair was tied up, per usual, out of her eyes. But it just seemed to want to irritate her at the moment.

"Who exactly are you talking to?"

"Myself," was her innocent enough response. Lynnira didn't even offer Alistair a kind smile of reassurance as he came to her.

"See, I've heard of other strange things happening to the new Grey Wardens, but speaking to yourself? Nope. You must've lost it before-hand."

She let out a sharp laugh, and it was much harsher than she intended it to be. "Of course I'm crazy. Can't you tell?" The sarcasm in her voice couldn't quite hide the fear. Alistair sighed and she just offered him a glance, with one eye brow perked up. "I was kidding Alistair."

"Oh, I'm well aware. But I just wish you'd just tell me what was wrong, instead of hiding behind humor."

Lynnira was silent, her face not changing, other than the dip of her lip before bringing it up into a smile. "Right, I forgot. That's _your _thing. Sorry."

He huffed a few times, taken back. Eyes blinking at her. "Uh. What? No. Uh…"

They had no more time to speak. Night would soon be upon them. Ser Perth was eyeing them, he seemed jittery, from what she could see. But he had every right. And her pacing must not have been helping. "It's quite already Alistair. We need to focus though, there is a battle to be fought."

So she strode past him, trying to ignore how closely she had brushed against him. Was it necessary? No, but it was amusing. She caught Leliana eyeing her, with that 'you-tease-him-too-much' look in her eyes. Or so she thought. Or was she being paranoid?

Ugh. Lynnira had other things to think on.

It was getting darker, and colder. And they waited, making idle chit-chat as they waited. Though the knights looked at her as she was crazy, she continued, innocent to them thinking of her differently for talking so politely while their entire village could be destroyed.

She felt her eye lids heave under the weight of her sleepless night the night before. After she'd spoken to Alistair… well, she couldn't get it out of her head. She should have been mad at him! For exposing her as weak! She was their leader… but she was only human, and spared him a tired looking gaze.

Ser Perth's holler woke her from her semi-sleeping state, and he pointed towards the bridge overhead.

A green fog was exiting the castle doors, filling up the space and pushing forward. Surging towards the barriers that had been in place. Until Lynnira could see nothing of them. The sickly green haze blurring her vision as it rushed closer. "At arms!" She screamed, but she felt like she was choking. The fog filling her, closing in on her.

_I have to focus! _She mentally screamed. Squeezing her eyes closed, Lynnira noticed she could not hear her comrades, but she could hear the clang of mental. And then from behind her was a shrill screech and _something_ hurdled itself at her.

It made her throat catch and bile rise in her throat, it was nearly as bad as the first time she'd encountered darkspawn, or even abominations, for that matter. It had hollow yellow eyes, pale skin clinging to it's skeletal body, wielding whatever it could as a weapon.

Her sword in hand, her shield on her arm, she swung. Severing it's head with a crunch, but more came. Now, they were spilling from the fog as much as the fog spilt from the castle.

One after another, they fell. And as they fell, the fog lessened. Her head buzzed with adrenaline, but she was far from done yet. She was barely started. Tilting her head, she counted them, one, two, three… six…nine, they were all there. Her chest was heaving in her armor once the fog had dissipated before them. "Is that…?" Her question was answered before it was asked.

The young messenger from before was running up to their ledge, "They… they are coming from the water! Help us!"

Her face hardened. "Knights of Red Cliffe! Stay here and defend!"

As soon as the command was made, they were running down the hill. It twisted and homes were raised on either side. But below, just below was their fortified station, where all the militia was. Before the Chantry, where the villagers hid in fear. The militia was poorly armed and armored, the pieced flimsy and weak looking but they were holding their own. Arrows shooting off towards their targets.

Lynnira swore she heard Morrigan mutter something about men being useless as they descended on the Chantry.

---

"So be it."

The night was over and by the Maker was he relieved. They were all generally in good health. Alistair stood in the crowd, next to Leliana and Wynne, Sten and Morrigan standing near the very far back, neither wanting to be near the stage. They watched as Bann Teagan told them all that he was going to enter the castle, and as the crowd dispersed he leaned close to Lynnira and whispered in her ear.

Alistair's gut wrenched. _Get. Away. From. Her. _He wanted to state, loudly. Why? He had no clue.

Once everyone was gone, they all stood there, Lynnira unmoving. Something was out of place, he could feel it.

But as she tilted her head ever-so slightly to make eye contact with Wynne, his chest clenched. Her face was covered with pain, pain of which she'd been hiding for the entire speech.

He had never seen Wynne move so fast. She was quickly at her side as Lynnira groaned loudly. "I'll be fine. I swear…" He took a few steps towards her, confused.

"You silly, silly girl! You should have told me you were injured when morning came! I would've healed you! Now an infection may have set in—"

"Oh Wynne," It was Leliana who spoke for Lynnira, were they closer than he assumed? "It's merely a large bruise. She was trampled, don't you remember?"

_Bruise? Trampled? Why don't they tell me these things? _He must've been staring because Leliana starting to giggle again. "I'll be fine." Lynnira grumbled and pushed herself forward. "We need to get to the Windmill, Bann Teagan has a plan."

"Oh?" Leliana had this annoying little talent to speak what he wanted to say before he could, "Is that all he whispered to you?"

Lynnira's face couldn't have been any more serious, "Yes." Though, those types of remarks usually made her laugh and joke back her blunt statement threw Alistair off. Did she want more from him? Oh Maker, his mind was running in circles.

He fell back near Sten and Morrigan as they climbed towards the Windmill. He remembered this place from his childhood, though it looked so much smaller than he remembered it. He remembered the time he nearly fell off the dock into the lake in winter with a soft smile on his face. And Morrigan's scoff jolted him back.

"Fool."

She was _such_ a bitch.

Alistair was learning to ignore her though, after travelling with her for over a month he had to. Sten was easy to travel with; doing everything he was asked, silently, only making few remarks that mostly had to do with their battle tactics. Leliana was a pleasure, she shared more than just a few stories with them, entertaining those who listened.

He nearly walked right into Lynnira's back, before regaining his composure. The walk was less time than he thought it would be. Though she was quite ignorant of him, intent on the words on Teagan's lips.

"… we must get into the Castle—"

"Teagan!"

"Isolde?!"

"I assumed the worst!" Alistair's stomach clenched at her sight, the woman was thickly accented, with long brown hair pulled back into a bun. She wore what seemed like an expensive dress, though covered in dirt, dust and even what looked like blood. Tears were on her cheeks as she embraced Teagan. "Teagan… Conner…" She was out of breath. "Conner could be hurt. You have to come with me to the castle!"

"Um, don't want to ruin this… lovely moment, but this seems like a trap."

Alistair nearly fell over at Lynnira's blunt statement. He also nearly clocked Isolde for the disgusted look she gave their leader. "Who is _this_?"

He gave her no time to respond, "You remember me, don't you Isolde?"

Her expression didn't lighten. "Alistair…"

"By the Maker," Lynnira was irritable now, "We've no time for this. Look, Teagan, we need to talk before I let you run off with this woman. The Maker only knows what may be going on in her mind."

"How dare you!—"

"I am the Grey Warden Lynnira." Her voice was threatening as she gave Isolde a level glare, "I am here to help, but you need to let us speak."

"Yes, Isolde, let us converse before we make any decision," they all watched Isolde retreat back to the guard who accompanied her. "You do not believe that the slightest bit rude, M'lady?"

"It was necessary."

"I will go with Isolde," Teagan held his hand to the protest on all their lips (well, all but Sten and Morrigan, whom couldn't care less). "I will… distract whatever is in there. Take this ring," yanking it from his hand he placed it into Lynnira's outstretched gauntlet. "This will open the hidden door in the windmill. Eamon and Conner are our priorities…"

"I will get all of you out."

This was not a statement she was leaving up to debate. Teagan seemed to acknowledge that, and nodded. "May the Maker be with you."

"May he be with us all."

And Bann Teagan was gone, and they began to delegate.


	3. Here Comes the Thunder

A/N: it's been a while since I updated, like... a whole three days?

Here you go, I promise it'll get a lot... steamier, soon.

---

In the end, only four entered the windmill. Lynnira peered over her shoulder. Alistair was quite forward with the fact he _had_ to go. Wynne had suggested herself for her healing magic, and then Lynnira asked Leliana to join her. Leaving Morrigan and Sten to help defend.

Morrigan had not been pleased. She muttered something about ungrateful humans and come Chantry sheep, before the thick wooden door slammed loudly behind Wynne.

Lynnira had a thing for space. She didn't like being crowded, or in small places. And this was both of those things. With a groan, she used the signet ring, the smell wafting up like trapped heat.

She nearly lost her lunch.

Leliana's laughter behind her made her remember she was their leader; she had to continue.

The thick stones of the windmill continued down into the cellar of the castle—or so it seemed. The walls were thick with dust and dirt. Spider webs hung low from the ceiling, grasping at her armor as she clambered down, trying to be as quiet as she could. They were in a tiny little room, with a large wooden door like the one they entered through.

Lynnira waited for them all to join her, before pulling the door open. It shrieked painfully as it was pulled open. Before them was a long hallway, with what seemed like cells. There were those creatures near one, trying to grasp something in it, until the door opened. Without so much as warning, they turned and charged at the group.

Alistair pushed past her to be the front line. With a soft scoff, she joined him, brushing him as she charged. Ducking behind her shield, deflecting a sword before spinning about and kicking out with her thick boots, startling the un-dead being… before an arrow nudged itself into it's skull.

She continued. Cutting down the beings quickly—and stylishly.

When all was quiet again, she heard Alistair mutter. "What?"

"I said that you don't even need our help anymore, it seems."

_Awe, he was so cute when he was jealous. _Without retorting back, she sent him a smile and a shrug. "You did something. You distracted them enough to get me embedded into their ranks. And Leliana shot a few. Oh. See. Wynne killed this one… unless you know how to make balls of fire Alistair."

"Oh ho, ho. Very funny."

Behind Alistair, she noticed Wynne and Leliana chuckling at him. "Let's keep moving," her laughter was soft as she headed towards the cell the creatures had been surrounding.

"Please!" Thin, weary hands shot out and grasped the front of her armor, bringing her towards the bars with a clang, "You have to help me!"

All of her companions had their weapons out.

"Who are you?" Lynnira asked, working her way out of his hands.

"You… you aren't one of the arlessa's guards?"

"Observant."

"I am Jowan…"

"And why are you in the dungeon?" Lynnira was becoming irritable from pushing him to speak.

He must've noticed. "I… I poisoned the Arl."

"_What_?!"

"Shush, Alistair, let him explain."

The Jowan man gulped, running his fingers through his thick, unruly black hair, clinging to his unshaven face and his dirty, bloodied robes. Obviously a mage. "I… I am a blood mage. And I was taken by Tyern Loghain on the way back to the Circle, and he told me to poison the Arl and he'd fix all of this. The Arlessa took me in to tutor her son…"

"Conner?" Lynnira cut him off this time. "The Arl's son is a mage?"

"Yes. Then something happened and I got locked down here. She came down and… she tortured me. I told her everything I've told you. But she wouldn't stop. Something about demons being loose? She said it was my fault. But… but I didn't do that!"

Alistair looked like he was going to be sick, and Lynnira wanted to reach over for him and comfort him. "Blood Magic… you can't trust him."

Wynne was next to speak though, "I remember you… you were… going to be made tranquil." He nodded. "You never harmed anyone other than on your escape… I do not know what to make of this…"

Lynnira was still. What were her options? "I want to help!" He nearly yelled at them, noticing the look on her face probably.

"We should help him atone…" Leliana—of course.

"You will come with us, Jowan. You will 'atone' I guess. If you want to help, you will help." He looked startled but nodded at his fate.

Taking the lock into her hand, she examined it, Leliana opened her mouth to offer opening it, when Lynnira merely cut it off with her blade.

"Let's go."

---

_Blood Magic._

It was all that could run through his mind.

_She is actually considering blood magic!_

He could tell she was. Here they all were, cluttered in the death of possessed soldiers before Isolde and Teagan, the demon Conner already run off. A little guilt pushed down on his chest, it wasn't fair that she made all the hard choices. He tried to keep that in his mind as she paced in front of him.

"I don't… I mean… I can't kill an innocent."

Her voice was so torn, so pained. She turned to Jowan, who was looking at his feet, shuffling, "Well… there is another way to enter the fade. It involves many mages and lyrim."

Alistair watched as Lynnira ran her hands through her hair. "I… I need a minute…"

She left them, then. Leaving them all to converse. And Leliana nearly jumped on him, her red brows furrowed angrily, "How could you say that to her!" She hissed in a whisper. "She can either kill the boy or the mother and you accuse her of being unholy for contemplating?"

That guilty pressure pushed down harder on his chest. "I… it was… I couldn't help it…"

Leliana was seething with rage; he could see it in her eyes. Even Wynne had stepped back, but her equally angry glare told him she wasn't quite happy at him either. He sighed softly, so softly that it was lost under the sound of Isolde's sobs.

Without so much as another word, he disappeared into the main hall. Pacing back and forth on the red carpet, looking at the stone walls, covered in painting of the Arls and Arlessas of Redcliffe. There were doors on each wall. And the one furthest from him had light coming from below it…

Curiosity over came him as he headed towards it. Pushing the door open the light touched his eyes, dulled from the darkness.

And there she sat, looking up at him, a chain hanging from her hand, something hidden in her palm. "Alistair. Come to lecture me?"

Her voice was so heavy with hurt, it nearly caused him to wince and run back out into the room. "No… I am sorry about… that. Old habits die hard?" He tried to make her laugh, but her eyes had fallen back upon the thing in her hand. He looked around the room and chuckled, trying to get some reaction from her. "You know, when I was told I was being given to the Chantry… I took the amulet my mother had left on me and threw it at this wall. It shattered… and I have never felt so foolish…"

"This amulet?"

She twisted her wrist, holding it up to him. It was a golden pendant with the sign of Andraste on it. It shimmered with the light, even though there was little off it, and most of it reflected off the pair's armor. "Y… yes…"

He felt water on his eyes and fought it back down, the urge to cry. Lynnira wasn't looking at him (thankfully) as she got to her feet. Walking over to him, grasping one of his hands with one of her own. _Maker, her hands are tiny… _He tightened his grasp of her slightly. She placed it in his hand and closed his hand around the amulet.

"I found it here, on this desk. I assume he had it repaired for you," she offered him a small smile. "And no. I will not be using blood magic."

And she left him there. Where he grasped the amulet to his chest, before tucking it into the pocket of his trousers. After a few more moments of absorbing the room into his memory, he returned to the room. Fearing the worse.

"… we will go to the circle and gather the mages you need for this."

"What of the time it will take, my dear?"

"I think saving these lives are worth it, Wynne."

His jaw nearly dropped.

---

It was her night for watch. And she didn't mind it in the least. It was quiet, it was warm. She sighed softly, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head.

"You—"

Lynnira nearly screamed. Jumping to her feet she whipped out her sword.

Then she nearly laughed. Dropping her sword to the ground where it clanged unceremoniously. Alistair stood before her in merely his tunic and his breeches. His boots lazily pulled on and his hair wet from the bath he'd taken in Lake Calenhad earlier. His arms were in the air in a sign of peace. "I nearly killed you, you know that right?"

"I am well aware," she was glad he was at least laughing now. She sat back down and patted the patch of grass next to her. He settled himself down without being prompted again, though he was much closer to her than she expected. "As I was saying," he cleared his throat mockingly. Her eyes danced over his face, amusement there. "You amaze me."

Lynnira gave him a surprised look. "Oh? Do I?" She felt flattered, her heart all aflutter.

"You do indeed," he moved closer to her, his body inching itself to be next to hers. Her knee touching his. She felt him tremble, and wondered why he did that when he was just going to shiver. "I mean, you could have taken the easy road and let that blood mage kill her, but you are going to use your resources to help her. Even though she has been less than grateful to you…"

Her face lowered and she looked at her feet, wiggling in her boots. "Well… I know what it's like to have your parents taken from you… well your entire family. I didn't want Conner to feel that."

His brows rose, she knew why. Lynnira never spoke of her past. Her heart twisted up inside her chest, feeling as if she should just shrink back into the darkness of the camp with a whimper. She didn't want him to view her as weak, yet, she didn't want to be inhuman.

"Look Alistair, two weeks before I arrived at Ostagar my entire family was murdered by Rendon Howe," she could feel his eyes intent on her face. Lynnira had put it bluntly, there was much more to that. She could feel the pity from him in her direction and it made her angry. "Don't pity me. Pity Howe, because I will kill him…"

Alistair was sitting so patiently, waiting for her to continue, she had barely felt him take her armor plated hand into his own. "Maxwell woke me up by barking, I threw a pillow at him, but he wouldn't stop…" Lynnira didn't find the humor helping her; it still hurt her chest to think of it. "So I got out of bed and I grabbed my sword when my door was swung open and one of Howe's men stood there. Leering at me like I was a piece of meat, well, I have meat on me yes. Not the point. They… attacked me…" She looked down. She felt that similar disgust with herself. No, they never managed anything, she was lucky. But their warm blood on her night-gown was enough to make her feel sick. "I killed them both, and my mother ran out to meet me…"

She took in a shaky breath. "We found my sister-in-law murdered and… we assumed raped by the looks of it… in front of my nephew. Also dead. We raced through the castle to get to my father. He was… wounded beyond healing. Duncan told me to escape with me, to pledge my life to the Grey Wardens to get my revenge…" Lynnira looked up at Alistair. She could also swear he was crying. His eyes bearing into her. "I agreed. My parents told me to leave them there. They… I…" It was her turn to cry a loud. But she didn't, she was stronger than that. Tears rolled down her face- silently. "I left them to die. And I've never been so hollow."

_Duty, Family, Honor._

By now Alistair had enveloped her in his arms. Just like the night of the storm.

"I'm sorry…"

She laughed softly. Lynnira was surprised how… safe… she felt right then. "You didn't do it, nothing you should be sorry about…"

Was he… nuzzling her head? A blush crept up her face, "No, I didn't. But I just wish everything wasn't so hard for you. I mean, you lost everything, then you… then they all died at Ostagar… and we've all done nothing but complain to you. I don't understand it…" Now he drew her away, to look into her eyes. She looked up at him. Her icy blue orbs meeting with his golden flecked ones, "You have every right to give up… yet you do everything you can… for everyone else."

Lynnira managed a smile, "I have nothing to lose? Why not give what I can to those who can make something of it?"

"And this is why I… we… like you…"

His blush was so endearing, the way it crept up his face like that. She reached up a hand to touch his cheek very gently, and he grew very stiff behind her, was he not used to being touched?

They sat in the silence of each other, comfortably for a very long time. She sat, armored to the teeth with him in his lightenest clothes. His skin was still cool from his bath, his hair damp, several drops colliding with her unarmored face.

"Alistair? I have a question. Please don't be too offended, it's slightly off-topic to our last discussion."

"And I have many."

Her giggle surprised herself, "If you were raised in the Chantry have you never…" She left the question open-ended. Seeing if he'd fill in the blank. Apparently he didn't get it.

"Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?"

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," he even shrugged a little. "Have I… never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

"Now you're just making fun of me," Lynnira pouted, bringing her lower lip over her upper ever so slightly. And by how his eyes watched those very lips so intently, she believed he understood.

But he didn't. "Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought. Now tell me, have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

Lynnira decided to play along, "Oh, I've licked my share of lamp posts, not only in winter either. But there is a particular one I've been contemplating."

Alistair's face was priceless. His eyes were wide, jaw hanging low, blush enveloping him completely. She swore even his arms were blushing. "Uh…" He finally got the innuendo. He cleared his throat anxiously, and tilted away from her, rubbing his head with a large hand. Those eyes of hers watched his movements. "I don't… know… what I am talking about anymore."

Her laughter was quieted by her hand covering her own lips, and she crossed her legs. Her plated armor digging into very interesting placed, but she ignored it. "Alistair, have you ever been with a woman, is what I'm asking. But I believe I have my answer."

Lynnira couldn't tell if he was ashamed, heartbroken, or purely embarrassed. "I… no." His voice was a mere squeak. "Well, I was raised in the Chantry. Taught to treat lovely ladies like yourself with nothing but the upmost respect." His eyes were on her hands, folded in her lap.

"Lovely?"

His laughter was so stressed it threw her off a little. "Did I say lovely? I meant to say beautiful, gorgeous, ravishing, resourceful and everything else you'd hurt me for not saying."

Her hands reached out, the metal cooling his warm hands as she enveloped them in her own. "I'd never hurt you on purpose."

He was nearly radiating with heat and embarrassment, "Nor I, you."

Once more, her lips were on his cheek. "Go to sleep Alistair, we've a long day tomorrow."

"Before I go… I think I have the right to ask that question myself—"

Her laugh stopped him, her cheeks rosy from the movements. "I am Noble born, Alistair. Men were forced upon me since I turned 16." His face dropped noticeably. And her grin merely widened, "but I always told them if they could beat me in a duel, I'd lay with them. No one has beaten me yet…" For a moment she stopped, thinking about something far off. Her eyes unfocused from what was around her, until focusing back on the startled Alistair, "Now go to sleep, Ser Knight."

Her command did not need to be repeated twice. He was gone, but for some reason, Lynnira lead herself to believe sleeping would not be on either of their agenda's for the night.

---

Morning had come and gone, it was now mid afternoon when a frantic looking woman ran head first into Lynnira. Knocking her back. "Please!" The woman was shrieking. "My caravan was attacked! Please help me."

And of course, Lynnira would go to her rescue. The shuffle of her plate armor was loud against the eerie quiet. Why was it so quiet when they were under attack? They raced after the woman, her grey hair flying before she skidded to a halt. Before her was an elf! His armor was much finer than any bandit she'd ever seen.

But before she could open her mouth to speak, an arrow wized by her head and the woman smiled, and began to cast magic.

Their minds whirred, but quickly orders were barked. "Sten, the mage! Alistair, stop the casting! Leliana pick off the archers, Wynne and Morrigan cover us!" Without any more hesitation, they flew into battle. Her legs were short compared to her other warriors, her dog at her heels, not needing orders, he could almost read her mind. They hopped over a fallen log together as they approached the elf, who was not surprised at her frontal assault.

As her allies fell the 'bandits' around her artfully, she was locked in hand-to-hand combat with the elf. He wielded two daggers, both jagged and probably poisoned. He was strikingly fast, many more years of training in him than she would have guessed.

He struck at her again and again, but she was not slow, even covered from head to toe in armor. Her shield would block his stronger attacks, usually with both daggers, pushing him back, while she parried and even threw in a swipe or two with her blade. They danced for a long few moments, until she was drenched in sweat from both the assault and the sun beating down on her back. He flashed out quickly, seeing her weakness, but was not ready for her strike. Her shield snapped out and crunched loudly with his nose, sending him flying.

Quickly she was over him, her foot on his wrist where the only dagger he still held was her sword dipped into the curve of his throat.

Breathing heavily, she looked for her party, who were all finishing off their opponents. A smile on her lips, under the helm. The elf below her was shuddering, and she crunched his wrist under her metal boot. "Don't move." She commanded him. Surprisingly enough, he listened.

They rejoined her over the elf, who was obviously their leader. "Who hired you?"

"Some regal fellow from Denerim," the accent was easy enough to pin-point, she had met many of his kind during social visits. He was Antivan. "I believe his name was Loghian…"

---

"I can't believe you let the assassin come with us!"

Alistair had Lynnira by the shoulder, and she was more than surprised. His fingers dug into her shoulder through the metal of her armor. "Calm down Alistair—"

"Calm down!?" His voice nearly rose loud enough for the others to hear him. It wasn't like he was making his distaste unknown. "He tried to kill you—us!"

Her voice was soft when she was speaking to him, very soft. Too soft. "We are desperate Alistair. We need all the help we can get. And I… I trust him." She shook her head, her helmet was tucked under her arm, the hairs that had loosened themselves hung over her eyes. "We can't be picky now, the rest of Fereldan wants us dead, they think we killed the king—Your brother."

Alistair was struck silent for the moment. _She's right. She's always right. _"Fine. But I won't like it."

That smile he loved touched her face. "I never expected you to."

He watched her walk away, a strange feeling in his chest he didn't know what to call.

---

"Where are you going, my lovely little Warden?"

The nickname made her smile a bit, even chuckle slightly. Lynnira knew that the elf—Zevran—was a flirt by nature. He was also quite amusing, mostly how he brought out a rage in Alistair she'd never seen on anyone or anything by darkspawn. "To bathe," she looked back at her companions around the fire, "is this a problem?"

"Of course not," his smile was sly, deceiving and even a charming, or would have been, were she to look at him that way. "But I must say, I believe I should come along for protection… or maybe just to wash your back if you so desired."

She could see Alistair fuming behind the flames next to Wynne, she was tending to an injury he'd received on his arm. They were making camp between Red Cliff and the Circle Tower, they were more than tired and the mages were a little behind, this gave them time to catch up. "Do you really think I need protection? I do remember me kicking your ass, actually." Lynnira lifted a thin finger to tap her lip, before letting out a soft whistle.

Maxwell bounded to her side happily, his stomach round from his fill of left over's from their dinner. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, looking up at his mistress expectantly.

"Plus, I have a war hound to serve as protection."

"But he cannot wash your back for you," Zevran pointed out.

"Yes, but I've been washing my own back for nearly nineteen years now, I can manage a few more times."

Without another word, she bounded off, hearing the laughter of Leliana behind her, teasing Zevran and Alistair.

Lynnira was more than glad to be able to bathe, even though it was to be in a freezing cold lake, it was better than nothing. So, she stripped down and chucked the clothes at her dog, who had a blast catching them mid air and bringing them to her to throw again.

She placed a toe into the water, and goose bumps rose on her skin automatically. "It's fucking cold!" Her tone was high and her dog barked a laugh at her. "Shush Maxwell!"

Even her dog teased her.

From there, she inhaled deeply, before throwing herself into the water head first. She sunk down into the water, embracing the cold like a blanket of reality. It was refreshing, for sure. Lynnira's body didn't mind it too much, actually. The armor got too hot some times. Quickly though, she stood up, gasping in a breath of air before plunging her body back in.

Her hands made quick work of herself, rubbing and scratching at her skin, peeling the layers of dirt, grime, sweat and blood from her skin. And as the sun lowered, her ivory skin glowed orange in the sun. Her fingers quickly unpinned her hair, and the long strands fell into the water twisting and turning about her body, winding about her.

Maxwell had jumped into the Lake after her with a bark. Her laughter was soft as he paddled to her, and she wrapped her arms about his big belly, lifting him from the water and spinning him around. "Oh Max," she buried her face into his wet fur. "I'm so glad you made it back, I'd have died without you. You are all I have left of who I was before."

Other than being picked up, he didn't mind the treatment, it seemed. He growled softly in a loving way and licked her face. Conversationally, of course.

"My hair? Yeah… I haven't let it down in forever."

Lynnira released him, and he swam back to shore, shaking off – away from her clothes, thankfully enough.

Spending no more time then she needed to, she left the water, running back to shore and slipping back into her dry clothes and she went back to camp. The sun was completely down and the fire was bright in her vision as she came back to them.

But before joining them, she watched. Max bounded into camp and over to Sten, barking with him conversationally, and Sten knelt to speak with him. Morrigan was by her own fire. Wynne was checking on everyone's wounds still, Leliana was strumming a harp while speaking with Zevran and Alistair, telling soft stories.

It was like a strange little family they were becoming.

Lynnira stepped into the firelight and everything stopped and everyone at the fire stopped to watch her approach.

The first to speak was Leliana, whom squealed and jumped to her feet, pulling Lynnira down to the ground before where she had been sitting, running her fingers through her hair, "I've never seen you with your hair down! I thought it was short!" Lynnira felt her eyes shutting without her consent. "It's so soft and silky, it's so beautiful, how do you keep it like this… wait. Lynn? Are you… did you fall asleep on me?"

It was true. Lynnira's head lay on Leliana's lap, soft, even breaths leaving her tiny body.

Even though she was dreaming, she could feel Alistair's eyes on her body, watching her carefully from his side of the fire.


	4. Lightening Strikes

A/N: Sorry for such a late update, I kinda... just... bleh. I suck. We'll keep it at that.

This is also a super short chapter, I want to get this moving along. And no, this story wont cover everything.

Nor will it be all happy-go-lucky-ness.

---

The next morning was eventful enough, first of all, she was disoriented. Where was she? Lynnira didn't remember returning to her tent. Her fingers stretched out to graze the sides of the canvas as the sounds rushed in on her. The sharp clang of metal sobered her up quickly enough. She jumped up and scoured her area for her weapons. Grabbing her sword she rushed out into the battle field.

It wasn't quite as dire as she'd expected. But in merely her nightgown, her long hair whipping about in the harsh winds created by the storm Morrigan was kicking up, it was still effort. She threw herself into the fray, seeing Leliana's red hair bob in an out between their assailants—darkspawn.

Throwing herself towards Leliana was possibly the worst idea she could have come up with. Around her the others were all beating down on their targets, while the bard was being overwhelmed, which was Lynnira's logic. So her sword rang through the air as she cut the one nearest her down, slitting the back of it's neck open. Black gore spewed out towards her face, but she dodged from the spray. Ducking herself through it's falling body to stand next to Leliana, wailing out on the darkspawn. There were five of them—there had been six before—and only two of them.

Leliana didn't even skip a beat, her bow spit out arrows as fast as Lynnira could swing her longsword. She felt rather naked without her shield, and if it were any time but a battle, the fact that she was only in a little gown.

Her arms were screaming as she knocked them back, pushing the darkspawn away from Leliana. Her hair was caught by a weapon behind her, catching on the blade, yanking Lynnira off her feet and onto her back on the ground. She vaguely heard Leliana scream her name as the blade slit open the skin over her collarbone. Blood oozed from the wound, and red began to creep into her vision as she fought for her life now.

Sword flailing wildly, she managed to get back to her feet, though her breathing was delayed and her left arm was uselessly hanging by her side. Now she was just trying to push the last two darkspawn away.

Someone cried out and a blade pushed it's way through the torso of one of the creatures. The other met it's fate to a barrage of lightening bolts.

Red had taken over her vision as she felt her knees weaken. Hands grasped her, trying to keep her up. Voices around her drifted off. "…don't…" Lynnira was delirious. "…I…. fine…"

A cool wave of blue cleared her red vision as she passed out.

---

"_Lynnira!_" Leliana's voice broke his concentration on his target as he watched it fall under the quick blades of Zevran. _What was she screaming about?_ He vaguely wondered as he quickly made his way over, as the meat-shield of the group second only to Lynnira herself, Alistair threw himself at the ranger, being pelted by the darkspawn. He saw a flash of steel, a bob of strawberry hair, and then only Leliana's horrified face.

His mind was racing almost as fast as his body. He could only move so fast though he willed himself to be faster. Who had fallen? Was it her? What if it was her?

Alistair was mad then, his sword digging deep into the bowels of the darkspawn. As it fell to the ground he saw her, and he wished he never had.

She had collapsed into Leliana's arms as the battle had finished. Blood covered the thin shift she wore, open wounds littered her arms and calves, which also had stains of old wounds. But the most noticeable was the huge slit along her collarbone, gushing blood as she sputtered for breath, her body trembling.

"_Wynne_!" His voice demanded urgency.

But Alistair could not move, instead, he watched as the Orlesian questioned Lynnira, who was fading in and out on consciousness.

He felt hands pull him back, but his eyes were on her face. Eyes shut lightly as if she was asleep, her body limp as the women pulled her into a tent.

_What if she never laughed again? What if she never smiled?_ His mind continued into depression, but he refused to think she could… No. She couldn't. It was impossible.

He wouldn't allow it.

---

"You shouldn't be trying to move."

It was the thirteenth time she'd heard that from Wynne since they had dragged her half dead body to Redcliff. They had done everything without her, while she lay in a make-shift bed. Her body raked with fever and pain. She had watched, half stoned from the amount of poultice in her body.

She had watched as Morrigan entered the fade to save a child on her behalf. She watched Isolde hold her child and cry only meters away from her, where she could barely breath.

It had been nearly a week, and she was still in bed. Her eyes met Wynne's. "We need to continue."

Her voice was strong, as was her will. Lynnira knew the blight would not wait for them… not for her.

Wynne was equally stubborn though, "It will be no use to us if you can barely stand, and not even hold a sword."

Lynnira grit her teeth, but made up her mind. From the sides of her vision she saw her party standing in the doorway, watching the exchange. "We are leaving tomorrow morning." It was no request, no question. They were leaving.

Sighing with defeat, Wynne left silently, scowling at the others whom tried to look occupied, but failed miserably. Pushing herself up, she wrapped the blanket over her chest tightly, trying to cover up as much skin as possible. Her eyes were downcast on her own form, the orange colour of the bandages were not a good sign for her. Throwing her legs over the side of her cot, she rose to her feet a bit unsteadily.

Someone was staring at her, she knew who it was, but she said nothing of it, "Get packed, we leave before the sun is up."

Without another word, the sombre crowd dispersed. All but one.

Alistair.

"I… I thought I lost you."

He always said the right things to bring her teetering to the edge. Her eyes rose from the dull stone floor to meet his eyes, he was closer now, nearly as silent as Zevran in his soft leather boots. It was strange to see him armourless, his body was just as broad though, his shoulders such a nice slope she just wanted to reach out and grab him. "I'm sorry." It was all she could think of saying, "I… I was reckless and stupid. I nearly got myself killed uselessly, I swear I wont act so foolishly again—"

He was upon her then, _for a big man, he moves so quick_, a hand on her good shoulder, the other on the side of her neck he looked at her with a frown. "Don't." He didn't give her time to explain herself, he continued, "You did nothing foolish, you saved Leliana's life. But please…" his first had crept up to neck, his thumb on her jaw, she was stunned. _Was he… is he going…_ "Don't scare me like that again. We all would be lost without you…"

She didn't think anymore, pushing herself onto her toes, Lynnira pressed her mouth onto his fully. He froze before her as she kissed him, gently. Pulling back before he could react, for the better or the worse, she leaned back on her heels looking at him. "I will try not to."

"That's not good enough," _Is he serious--?! _His lips crashed down on his and it was her turn to be surprised. Her hands touched his elbows, as she pushed herself against him, her mouth meshing with his in a very passionate, yet innocent kiss.

At least, it was before she felt his tongue prod her lower lip. She gasped into his mouth, inhaling him—and _damn_ did he taste good! He took that as a good thing and dug himself into her mouth, tilting her head back, fingers grasping the strands of her hair softly.

Their mouths danced together until Lynnira pulled back from him, hands on his chest. Her chest was heaving from both strain, lack of breath and slight light-headedness. "Was that good enough?"

Alistair's smile brightened a part of her heart that had died with her family, his fingers not leaving her cheeks. "More than good enough."

---

She watched him leave with warm eyes. The moment he was out of sight, she sunk back to her cot to take a few deep breaths in. She felt the air move around her, and she was no fool. "Zevran."

"My dear little Warden, you are quite skilled. Most would not have heard me."

"I'm getting used to it," she quirked a smile at him over her shoulder. Even though he was hired to kill her, she liked him. He was witty, funny and his sexual jokes reminded her of her older brother. The thought of Fergus made her stomach clench.

"What now?" His voice dipped low as he came to settle himself beside her. His skin shone in the candle light, the marking on his face trembling as he held a smile.

Her face neutralized as she turned to him, "Hm?" Lynnira's brows shot up, "Oh, you need to leave while I sleep. I don't trust you that much yet, Zev."

His sigh was all she heard of him as he faded into the shadows. Stepping up, she found the basin of water they'd been using to keep her clean. Her shoulder throbbed with pain as she moved on hand to grasp the pool of strawberry blond behind her head. Holding it up, she rose the dagger usually tucked into her boot to the junction of her hand and her hair. With a swift movement the hair cascaded down her sides to pile by her feet.

When she was finished she ran a hand through her newly cropped hair. A soft smile on her mouth.


	5. Calm

A/N: This is a short chapter, and we are nearing the end. This is not going to be a full story, but I will start one. 3

A/N: I like getting reviews! Just a hint. ;)

* * *

"It's so fucking cold!" She whined from the front, her hands rubbing her sides as the head up the hill.

Alistair didn't mind standing behind her. Mostly going up hill. He had quite the view. He could watch her hips move from side to side carelessly through her armor. Sure, they'd never done anything but kiss passionately, but he was still a man, he thought about those sorts of things… frequently. "At least we aren't in a thunder storm."

"Not funny."

He couldn't help but chuckle. The group was heading towards a village they noted on the map for a nights stay and some restocking. They could use a bed, they agreed mutually. Lynnira lead them, with Alistair, Wynne and Leliana following and Sten, Morrigan, Max and Zen taking up the rear.

"Oh? What's this? Travellers?"

Watching as she approached the shoddy looking man beside a cart, Alistair placed a hand on the hilt of his blade pre-emptively. Stepping up behind her. "Hello." She was so polite when she had to, must've been the nobility in her. "Are you traveling to Honneleth?" Her voice was sweet and soft, getting a startled gasp from Zevran. He'd never seen her like this. Alistair managed a small smile.

The rogue and him didn't see eye to eye on most things. At all. Well, seeing as Zevran flirted with anything that moved, but they all had the same concern over his fellow warden… she accepted that.

A jab to his rips made him realize he was staring at Lynnira's behind as she spoke to the merchant, who handed her a rod. Her smile seemed to melt the frost on the tree's themselves.

Once a good ways away from the merchant he stepped up to the leader, "What is that rod?"

Her good natured humor came out, though sometimes it scared him. "He could tell I was sexually frustrated and decided to give me a hand." Alistair blanched noticeably, while those nearest chuckled. "It's a control rod, for a golem. I thought it may be useful."

Under her helm, he could see the cropped part of her hair, and that stung him. He knew why she had cut it, but he wanted it back. He remembered when he woke the morning after that first night.

"_Alright, let's get a move on—"_

"_What did you do to your hair!" Cried Leliana, her face stricken. No one had had the nerve to mention anything. Not that it looked bad. The hair fell just above her eyes and tucked behind her ears. Which he noted to be quite small, even cute. _

"_I cut it? I will not let what happened happen again. I should have known wearing it down would be a bad idea."_

_Alistair let out a soft sigh, he liked it before. He wanted to run his fingers through it, touch it… touch her._

He wasn't going to lie; he still wanted to touch her. Oh, how he wanted to. But he wouldn't… it wasn't quite right yet.

Not surprised in the least was Alistair upon entering the village, overrun with darkspawn. Slaughtering their way through, they noted a large stone figure in the center of a field. Hands stretched to the sky.

Her voice was soft as she spoke the command, yet nothing happened.

"Let me guess," came the rich Antivan accent from behind him, "we must help everyone before we get what we need? Typical."

* * *

"What is this?" Followed by an over-dramatic sigh reached the Couslands's ears. She was a little more than surprised. Her white blue eyes flickered to the stone giant, looking down at it's… hands? The stony fingers curling and uncurling. "What does it wish of me?"

"I'm going to jump to conclusions and assume I'm 'it'?" Lynnira found her voice was calm, and could feel the disbelieving stares at her backside. _C'mon! We live in a world where people can throw lightening at each other and a golem throws us off? Damn. _

"It assumes correctly."

Lynnira replied to the rather witty living statue's questions with ease, actually enjoying the banter. She had to hide the small smile on her thick lips.

"So, what does it wish of me?"

"Well, we're currently in the middle of a blight, and I thought a personal golem would be more than helpful."

"Hrm, it wishes my help, of my own free-will. I will follow it… for now."

The Warden found herself grinning like a child, Alistair's and Zevran's disbelieving commentary being clearly ignored. "I'm glad to have you, Shale."

* * *

"Are you out of your bloody mind?!" Alistair knew his face was too close for comfort to hers. At least, he thought she assumed that, she was leaning back from him. Or maybe that was because he was half yelling in her face.

She smiled at that, actually smiled. A mix of feelings flooded him. Knock her out and do dirty things to her body, or knock her out and hope it brings some sense to her! "So I've been told." The Warden before him even topped it off with a laugh—no! A giggle!

"But… A golem? First an apostate, then a crazy bard, a murderer, an assassin and now, just to top the cake! A golem. You, my dear, are one archdemon short of a blight, you know that."

Her smile only grew though. Alistair reeled back to his heels. They were in one of the still standing buildings of Honnelth. It must've been an inn once. They group was in front of the hearth, warming their hands as Lynnira sat in the back, on the bar sharpening her blade and flexing her still slightly wounded arm. In her tunic, he could see the scar running down her throat, curving slightly towards the unknown cleft between her breasts. He swallowed hard after thinking about _that. _"You wouldn't have me any other way."

_Oh, I'd have you any way, my dear lady. _

Her brow quirked, her smile turned into a smirk. "What was that, Alistair?"

His shudder ran through his entire body at her silky voice whispering his name. "I… said that aloud?"

Her only reply was a nod.

"That's embarrassing."

Her face sobered before him, her bare hand touched the rough stubble on his cheek. Her finger tips were calloused but soft, gentle like a child's. He gasped softly as she dragged him into her softly, catching his lips with her own. Softly caressing them in a gentle dance, nothing needy. Pulling back, her hair tickled his nose. Alistair realized he was grasping her forearms gently. "I don't think so. You are still a man, a man who wants, who needs, who loves."

Was it just him? Or did the word 'love' sound utterly delectable rolling from her tongue? "So, I am just like the men you knew from before?" It slightly wounded him that she thought that way. Did that mean she had kissed men like that before? His heart beat quickened with jealousy.

"Not at all. You are… Alistair. Warden, former templar, gentleman, bastard prince. These aspects of who you were born as make you… you. The…" Now she did something he'd never seen before. Was that a blush? He took in a deep breath as he watched her. "The man who I am overjoyed was the one to be saved with me. I could not have done… any of this without you."

Alistair felt as if he was drowning—in a good way. If that was possible. He was at a loss as to what to say. Was he supposed to kiss her now? Profess his undying love? So, swallowing hard, he decided to be honest. First, glancing back towards the party behind them, who seemed unaware of the romantic scene playing out.

"Lynnira, I need to admit this: I… well… every time I'm near you I cannot focus, but… I don't want to ever be without you." His inhale startled even him, but he grasped her hands in his, unable to look up at her face. To see possible disgust, or maybe even rejection. "I've been… waiting to say this. But… I care for you, Lynnira Cousland." Suddenly he remembered something and withdrew his hands from hers.

Reaching within his tunic, he grasped the rose by it's stem, and offered it to her. "Do you… know what this is?"

Her voice was so small, so soft. Was she crying? He surely hoped not. "It's a rose."

"Yes, and… well… I saw it in Lothering when we were there, and I remember thinking: 'How could something be so beautiful be surrounded by so much ugliness?' And, in a way, I think the same about you…"

Alistair felt his heart nearly leap from his chest, when he heard the soft sound she made. His eyes searched her face, pale, wondrous, looking up at him in awe. "You… think I'm beautiful?"

It was almost as if she'd never heard it before! He couldn't believe it. "Think? No. I know you are. You… just… even covered in blood, in armor and sweat you are the only woman I'd ever want to look upon—"

Surprised rocked through Alistair's body, and then a strange heat, washing over him like a wave. Lynnira had pushed herself into his lap, capturing his lips warmly. Of course, Alistair couldn't deny her, and so pushed himself back into her, fingers curling into the cropped hair. They pulled back to breath, and Alistair felt warm in strange places. He tried to clear his throat, but found he could not, as she was back on him.

It was him who pulled back, for only a reason the Maker Himself would know. "Lynnira… Lynn… I want to spend the night with you. I wanted to wait until it was perfect, until it was right. But, it may never be perfect—"

She shushed him with a thin finger, knowing that at least one of their companions had noticed their romance. But he was the one to blush. "If it's with you Alistair, it already is perfect."

Golden eyes widened as they met with white blue ones. His fingers grazed her cheek, taking in her sight as if this was the last he'd ever seen. But, he knew he'd be fine with that, if she was it. Alistair let a breath out, one he had been holding for so long. "I love you."

"I've loved you since I met you, Alistair."


	6. Storm

A/N: This is the final chapter in my little stand-alone here. It's also smut filled, changing the rating of this story up to Mature. Don't worry, it's still awesome. ;)

* * *

He didn't think he'd ever be able to breath properly again, at least, not while he saw her. Like _that_. Alistair finally let go of the air he'd been holding, and shifted slightly. So here they were, standing in the room she had claimed as her own, still fully clothed and feeling awkward. At least, he did. She had a silly grin on her face. Like usual. He wanted to pout and cross his arms until she stopped.

He knew she wouldn't.

"Alistair, relax."

"How am I supposed to do that?" He nearly whined, wincing after he'd said it, beginning to ramble. "I'm about to see what I've fantasized about for months now, and you want me to relax?" He was nearly in hysterics. He tried to keep his eyes off of her, to calm himself. Looking around the room, pretty well kept for the town being completely leveled. There was the large four poster in the center, a dresser with her armor laid out on it. And her.

She was standing in the center of the room, on a rug that looked so soft. Her toes wiggling in anticipation. Lynnira's newly cropped hair was hanging down by her eyes, her pale skin glowing in the flickering candle-light. Her tunic and breeches looking so thin and _rip-able. _He swallowed hard.

She was on him again, her fingers against his chest, touching softly where none had touched him before. Her face so close to his, her eyes half-lidded as she watched him. "Do you want to wait? Until you are ready?" Alistair couldn't talk, but he shook his head vigorously. A smile touched her face, "Good."

Alistair pulled her chin up to his, taking her lips in his own. Feeling the plush skin under his rough lips, clumsy with inexperience. Fingers quickly tangled into her hair, her own digits grasping the short ends at the back of his throat. A pulse of _something_ fell from his face down southward. He didn't think his body had enough blood for everything to be accounted for at the time.

Her soft laughter brought him back to the task at hand: kissing her delightful face. His lips left her mouth though, red and blushing from the pressure he had placed upon them, down along her throat and towards the scar. He caressed the scar gently with his tongue, feeling her shudder in his arms. "Alistair," her voice was soft, weak almost, "If you do not start removing clothing, from either of us, I will do it first."

The blood pulsing near his pelvis provoked him to speak, "Sounds intriguing."

From then on, she was leading the rumble. Her hands grasped the front of his tunic roughly, her eyes daring as she stood on her toes to look up into his eyes. "You will regret that, and love it all the same, Alistair Theirin." Lynnira's voice was like a purr, as she assaulted his neck with her mouth. He could hardly suppress his surprise as she managed to get him near the bed. The backs of his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Not once. Instinct is a beautiful thing." Alistair groaned out low as she pushed her body up to his again.

He was going to change things up. Flipping the stakes, he pulled her back, before pushing her gently onto the bed. Before crawling up over her. Her quirked brow and smile made the warmth in his abdomen flush out into the embarrassment he'd felt every night he thought of her like this. Her hands were on his face, his neck, and his mouth was on her body. As she whispered soft encouragements.

Then nerves bundled, and he didn't know what to do. Alistair was kneeling over her, her hair throw across the bed, her face flushed with excitement, her blue eyes caught with his golden ones. Begging him to continue. His hands graced her body, grasping the cloth of her chest and pulling it over her head. Under the tunic (which did her body little justice) she was bound with bandages from her wound. He clicked his tongue. "That won't do." He was barely aware he was talking, when his fumbling hands unraveled his prize.

Alistair was rewarded with a soft gasp from the woman below him. Her silky skin soft to his touch, her body reacting to his every probe. He wanted to know all of it, learn all of it! But not right now, for her hands were doing such dirty things to his chest. Her fingers pushing up his shirt, before pulling it straight off. "You are taking too long!" She whined under him, wriggling her hips from side to side, nearly panting in frustration.

He wanted to torture her; she had done so to him for so long, without meaning it. Maybe that was unfair then, he reasoned with himself. Without waiting much longer, he gathered a soft breast in his hand, kneading it softly, watching her face as her eyes fluttered close and her lips parted to let loose a moan.

_Whoa! That… oh dear Maker… _Alistair's mind was running. The noises, the movements, everything she was doing was tempting him. His own chest was bare to her. Her fingers playing with the scars, with the muscles. A groan passed through him as he grasped her breeches, slowly drawing them from her form.

A startled gasp chorused through the room. Cold air rushing through them both. Her legs were bare—no, she was completely bare to him. Laying under him. To his mercy. And all Alistair wanted to do was praise the Maker for making such a specimen. His hands began to move on their own accord, touching, groping and eliciting moans from her. Lynnira shuddered beneath him, and his own breeches seemed to be much too tight.

Her fingers made quick work of them though, the lasses were undone, and hanging loose, only needing to be swiftly removed.

"Are… you…?"

He was unable to put together coherent sentences; her body was too much of a distraction. Her smile and kiss to his collarbone meant yes, she was ready and she understood.

Alistair's pants joined the heap of clothing growing beside the bed. And the amazement in her eyes made blood rush both to his groin and his face. "Oh, Maker…" She whispered, tenderly drawing a hand out to touch _it. _A soft groan left him.

The next few moments were drawn out for him. She inched her way up to the pillows near the headboard, and he followed, how could he not? Her hand on his elbow leading him made him consent. He grasped her lips with his own, the passion and heat rushing through their bodies enough to light a fire! She kissed him eagerly, and he returned the favor.

It wasn't long before he was buried to the hilt in her. His face drawn into a mix of surprise, desire and worry. For she was cringing under him. Her hands on his chest, her knees against his sides, her body quivering so slightly. "Al… Alistair…" She whimpered softly, barely able to speak.

"Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?" He asked hurriedly, guilt crashing through him.

"N-no… don't… move…" Alistair watched as Lynnira composed herself, leaning back into the pillows, nodding at him to continue. With that worry on his heart, he gently proceeded.

His eyes never left her face. He watched intently as her face shifted. From hurt, to confused, to utterly blissful. As her emotions changed, so did his rate. He pushed into her at the same speed and vigor as she thrust up at him. Gasps, whimpers and his name pushing past her lips again and again.

Finally, he felt as if he could no longer contain it. His chest heaved as his pushes became desperate, hurried. Groan after groan left him as he buried his face into her throat as her back arched up against his chest. Her voice sounded first though, his name was moaned by the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

As her body reacted, he felt resistance. He knew what was happening, her body clamped down around him, and he muttered her name like an oath as he pushed again, and again, and again. Until finally he exploded, collapsing on top of her body.

"Maker's Breath you are beautiful…" His fingers pushed hair from her face, sweat collected on her forehead as he lay mostly on top of her. Lynnira smiled at him, her eyes carefully regarding him as he pulled himself back from her, then rolling to his side.

Alistair felt his eyes droop, and felt a warmth crawl over him. Arms encircled his neck, a face buried itself against his chest and a warm leg, wet with something sticky moved over one of his. Weakly, he dug a blanket out from under him, pulling it over their intertwined forms.

"I love you, Lynnira."

A muffled reply met him: "I wub juu tooo…"

* * *

His soft yawn roused her from her slumber. Lynnira felt warm, felt something else, she couldn't quite place. Oh, she realized what it was as she rolled off of Alistair, her legs were sticky with a mix of sweat and Maker only knew what else. At the thought of their night, a blush planted itself firmly on her face.

"Alistair…" She sung his voice gently, moving to sit on her knees over him. She was always awestruck by how very handsome he was. How untouched he was by the world while he slept. His face was child-like almost as he blinked open his golden eyes from sleep.

With a gentle hand he brushed her cheek with long fingers, offering her a smile. "Morning, Lynn."

She found herself unable to talk, sitting nude before the man she had made love with, his eyes roaming her face and other parts. His hands being soft and innocent. "We need to get a move on, our party has probably already guessed. You weren't very quiet…" Lynnira chuckled softly at Alistair's face.

He looked horrified! "Oh no! The looks Morrigan will shoot me before combat are going to be incredibly awkward," he regarded her though, only once, before grinning wide, "but last night was so worth it."

Lynnira pulled herself from their shared bed after kissing him with the lightest of grazes, stepped back into her clothing, strewn on the floor, tossing his to him. "I'm glad."

"So, what do we do now?"

His words made her think, and so Lynnira turned to him, a smile on her features. "We stay together, always."

For the first time in her life, the thunder booming outside her window did not frighten her, for she was safe in his arms. Safe with him.


End file.
